Synesthesia
by Ma Chat
Summary: They both figured it would happen someday. -MelloMatt, lemon-


**notes: **This was co-written with a friend from Neopets over a span of about four days or so over Email. It's long, I know, and the paragraphs may seem lengthy -- but really, you should have seen it before I decided to separate the paragraphs. (They were, like, _mega_paragraphs, I swear.)

You can tell what writing is mine, I think. Our writing styles are so diverse, and I think that mine even changed while writing this just to adapt. And I'm warning you: This was basically role-play, which means the characters response lies within their own sections, so it may be a bit hard to keep up with. But it was really fun to do, and in the end I really grew to like it.

* * *

s y n e s t h e s i a

* * *

He had always hated mornings. The way the sun seeped in through the cracks in the blinds, and the way the whole apartment almost had this translucent all knowing glow about it that made this false sense of security and hope fill him. Leading him on to believe that everything would be alright when really, he knew there was nothing further from the truth. He knew it was all just an illusion being cast about the apartment, the little hole in the wall that almost appeared cozy and comfortable at 6 in the morning. Almost seemed to truly feel like a home that wasn't his, and wasn't really Matt's, either. Matt. He sits up a little, putting a hand in front of his eyes and silently cursing that he had fallen asleep on the couch instead of kicking the other out of the bed, or just reducing himself to sleeping beside him instead.

They only did that, however, when they more or less passed out from exhaustion and really Mello would never be the one to suggest otherwise. When they were children it was different and they always used to that but now that they were older, well, it was just different and he had explained that to Matt on several occasions despite his ongoing protests of how it really wasn't. Mello however knew that it was and that Matt didn't belong here, as much as he wanted him here he knew he didn't but at the same time he also knew that he did because he was his self proclaimed best friend and really, Mello had never been one to disagree or argue with this because steadily through his youth it had become common knowledge to everyone around them. Even fucking Near knew that there was no one that could manage to keep the two of them apart - except maybe L, because Mello would always obey him but L himself had nothing to say of the matter and all the teachers would just look on at the spectacle of their friendship.

Getting up, he stares down at the pile of papers and news papers that are scattered around him, articles on Kira here and there and the news proclaiming the latest updates of more mass murderer induced killings. He turns it off for once, and stands up, stretching a little and eyeing the computer in the corner wearily, used to the mop of red hair before him and half wondering where he was but really that was redundant. He yawns a little as he makes a pot of coffee, watching as the water boils slowly and the numbers on the clock telling him that time is still passing by, and with this revelation he walks into their bedroom and kicks at Matt's legs that he sees poking out from beneath the covers, hearing grumbles of sorts as he does it once more, tempted to threaten him with his gun but not feeling up to finding it at the moment.

"Get up, Lazy Ass, rise and shine. The morning fucking awaits you and so does my fist if you don't get up right _now_!" He had always been such a pain in the ass to wake up the morning, half of the time he literally had to drag him from beneath the covers in order for him to even attempt to open his eyes. "MATT." He was used to it though, because many mornings were spent like this. Mello up at the crack of dawn for reasons beyond him and Matt sprawled out face down and refusing to acknowledge the fact that yes, there was work to be done - work that he should be more than a little familiar with. This had all basically become a sort of routine one that honestly, he had grown not to mind all that much despite his constant complaining of it.

After all, Matt was the one that had demanded Mello make room for him in his life once more despite him repeatedly trying to explain that him leaving was for the best and -- "Check the video feeds, come on. Do you want Near to beat me? Is that what you want Matt?" It had needed to be done. The mere thought of Near however makes his fingers twitch a little as he gives him one last kick before walking away and pouring the now ready coffee into two separate mugs, setting each on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. As strange as it seemed it really was just another typical morning for the two of them.

Sleep. That was one word Matt both hated and loved. Hated, because he never got as much of it as he would like, and loved - merely because it was one time he really didn't need to think about anything _at all_. Besides, of course, the video game characters that floated around in his mind, corrupting his thoughts and giving him dreams that would not happen if Armageddon were staring him in the face.

Grumbling under his breath, voice low, he stirs. His actions aren't quick, however; he prefers to move at his own pace, and he throws the blankets off of his body in a slow manner, legs already becoming sore from Mello's kicks. He runs a hand through his mess of red hair, a yawn escaping him. Of course, Mello brings up Near. Near always seemed to sneak into their life one way or another, even if the pasty boy was nowhere around. "No, Mello," he replies groggily, rolling his eyes. "That isn't what I want."

So what did he want, then? Perhaps there were too many things for him to even scratch the surface of the list. He would ignore it for now, though, and push it to the back of his mind where it would sit and wait for another inconvenient moment to sneak up on him and try to steer his attention away. And, speaking of attention: Matt sits there for quite a while, cheek resting against the palm of his hand, nearly dozing off again. But he quickly remembers Mello, and God, he knows that the threats given by the man earlier would be nothing compared to the ones he'd receive if he didn't get himself awake and do what Mello had asked.

He stands up and gives a massive stretch, a few of his joints popping from the action. He breaths a deep sigh and yawns again, making his way away from the bed in a sluggish manner, hardly aware of what Mello had previously told him to do. In fact, he's barely certain he's even awake at the moment, and he plops down on a seat beside the coffee table, staring at the coffee mug and looking up from it to glance at Mello. "...Nngh," he murmurs incoherently, wiping a hand over his face. His words mean nothing, and the both of them know that.

Matt never really was a morning person, after all.

He watches with narrowed eyes as Matt finally manages to more or less decide to grace the world with his presence as he slouches down in his seat and all Mello can do is continue to death glare him over his coffee mug, his own fingers tapping rather loudly on the table as if to further awaken the other. "Matt." He says, not even exactly sure as to why he was in such a hurry this morning even more so than usual and even Mello had to admit it was unsettling even himself. He had this strange sort of adrenaline rush and an eagerness to make some sort of…well, difference to do something no matter how small. Even if it was the small feat of making them both coffee and not shattering the glass with his clenched fist. "You can't be sleeping late. This isn't a party, we have things to accomplish and very little time. I bet you anything thousands more people have died while we just slept not to mention the fact that L, our mentor is dead and has been for years while the killer still roams about Japan continuing his crusade against humanity."

He knows Matt knows this, but in all honesty it just makes him feel better to say it again and to remind him of their mission despite whatever qualms Matt has about it. It was after all still part of the routine that they had managed to etch our for themselves. "Aren't you the one that wanted to help me in the first place? Tag along?" Setting down his mug a little louder than necessary, he leans back in his seat and stares at the ceiling for a few moments half wondering about Kira's whereabouts and half wondering about Near's because the two of them went hand in hand, especially in the sense that they were always on his mind, constantly and really this couldn't be helped. He couldn't be like Matt all nonchalance and obsessing over electronics he actually had goals and aspirations and he suspects that this might be where the problem lies.

Shuffling about in his black leather pant pockets he unearths a chocolate bar, peeling back the wrapper hurriedly as he bites into the substance, licking his lips as he savors every drop because it was the only thing that kept him sane. One of these days while Matt was sitting there playing his video games and causing more brain cells to deteriorate he would ultimately snap and not in the "TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF OR I'LL SHOOT YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW" sense, more or less go completely off his rocker if that was even possible. "Near…" he mutters offhandedly, burning holes into the wall beside him as he stares at it not even realizing that he himself has zoned out until he feels his chocolate melting in his hand and he looks down in disgust, cursing repeatedly as he attempts to clean himself up.

"Hey - Hurry up, stop staring at me and drink that. Come on." It had always been like this, his little obsession and proclaimed war that waged between the blonde and the pale child, the two of them competing for something, always, no matter what it was. How big or how small and this though, this was the ultimate war that would settle it all and see just who could truly succeed L, who was the capable one and who needed the other to be able to do it and personally Mello would have it no other way. He had grown used to it, especially since it had basically been the reason for his whole childhood at the orphanage working to try to surpass the other and gain something over him, get even a reaction but, alas Mello was often denied such. Near made sure of that and Matt, Matt just bitched about it.

Matt sighs heavily but gives a simple nod, picking up the coffee mug and quickly disposing of its contents. The liquid is hot and burns his throat at first, and for a moment it reminds him of this entire situation; the whole thing had always been too much to chug at once, but Mello was always the one to instigate things, to lead himself and Matt toward God knows what and where, and to make sure that neither of them messed up whilst doing so..

But Matt-- he would have much preferred a leisurely state. His mind was quick to analyze but slower to get on the task like Mello, who always seemed to be headfirst about everything. Matt would have rather sat there and played video games all day. Sure, people were being killed as they spoke, as they slept, but that was how it had been ever since Kira dared show his face to the world - right? Setting the cup, now empty, on the table, Matt snaps his goggles over his eyes and gazes hollowly at Mello. And though the other man may not have even noticed at all, Matt had barely taken his eyes off him the entire time.

And Mello was always eating chocolate -- his addiction, really, and Matt noted long ago that each person that had a stay in Wammy's House had acquired a peculiar habit of some sort. Perhaps it was all spurred by L, or maybe their lifestyle. Near had his toys and puzzles and whatnot, Mello his chocolate, and Matt, of course, had his games to calm his nerves. Not that it was out of the ordinary; at least, not to him. To him, these habits were one of the most familiar things in the world.

"All right, all right" he says after a quick moment, stretching again, "I'm helping."

Rubbing at his already aching temples, he stretches a little, a bit of pale flesh being exposed due to the simple gesture as he wanders away into the living room, taking a seat on the couch which more or less probably has his indent in it by now considering the fact that he spent a good deal of his time there, day after day flipping through newspaper clippings while his eyes simultaneously darted back and fourth from the small lettering to the news anchor reading off the situation of the still dying criminals. Truth be told, the police probably didn't even work as hard as he did.

The coffee had helped a lot and he felt very energized although honestly he had already been up for quite some time, simply gazing at the ceiling and watching the sunrise as he did nearly every morning while Matt didn't get the chance to witness such a spectacle although occasionally Mello considered going in there and waking him up to see it because it really was beautiful, even he had to admit. It was like a beacon of hope to see every morning, the way the shades of oranges and pinks filled the horizon, glowing so brilliantly against the city line, but, at the last minute when he was about to open the door and tell him to sit with him and watch he would change his mind thinking that the whole idea was ridiculous in the first place and not really knowing what had come over him in those minutes where his judgment lapsed.

Eyes fixated on the photographs and old information he sighs a little, thinking that he needs to buy more chocolate because they were running low and no doubt Matt would be out of cigarettes within the hour. Thus, one of them would have to go out and get said items, generally it would have to be him because the other took forever in the gas station, picking out the items as if it was some precious task but he couldn't blame him, he didn't get to leave the apartment all that much although he firmly believed that Matt didn't really mind. He had committed himself to it, and they were both trying to get out of digging their own grave. It was a strange sort of partnership but it was one that had always been there. He's thinking about taking a shower when a ringing snaps him out of his thoughts and he nearly falls off the couch from the sudden interruption because it was a rarity when his cell phone rang, especially this early, few people had his number to begin with and he doesn't really think that Matt's that moronic to call him when he's sitting five feet away.

Flipping it open he answers in his usual manner of, "Speak," only to pause and nearly fall over once again when he hears a voice that's all too familiar. Near. Near giving his greetings in that usual monotone that he absolutely loathed. Frowning and trying to compose himself to the best of his ability (due to the strange looks Matt's shooting him.) he exhales shakily and closes his eyes trying to prepare himself for the emotional torture. "What the fuck do you want?" He can't help but begin to chew on his bottom lip as Near alerts him in a plaintive fashion that he's grateful for the information that Mello had passed along at their last visitation. This only causes him to frown even more if possible at the memory that flashed before his eyes on a daily basis ever since it had happened a few days ago. "Is that all you called to say? I don't appreciate -"

"Mello, please calm down. I just wanted to inform you of my thanks once more and of the fact that it's allowing us to come even closer to catching Kira, therefore you should not regret such moves on your part." This was exactly why he hated him, that cocky little voice all knowing in it's self glorification of supposed divinity. As if he was better than him or something. He couldn't stand it, and his fingers only proved this as they flexed in and out of a clenched fist.

"Us? What is this us. We're just two people that happen to be going for the same destination and outcome, it has nothing to do with working together and I've already fucking told you this several times before! " Throwing the phone against the wall, he brings a shaky hand up to his head to run his fingers through it wearily as he stands up and mutters something about having to go to the restroom.

It's strange to Matt, Mello's quick temper. However, he supposes that it's understandable, to say the least. Near was the fuse on all of their problems. True, Kira was the reasoning behind this current struggle, this fight, but Kira was not the one to begin it. And much as any of them would hate to admit it, L was really the start to this competition. To succeed L -- to become better than L himself. It was already known that others who had taken this dream to extremes paid the consequences in the end.

When Mello stands and mutters something regarding the restroom, Matt feels a pang of emotion for the man. It's different, too; something he's never felt that often, especially not in relation to Mello. But he feels a bit worried about him, worried that maybe he won't be able to hold up much longer despite his sturdy exterior. And instead of taking an approach on this as he normally would by simply keeping his seat and taking out a video game to preoccupy himself until Mello came back, Matt stands a tad hesitantly and makes his way to the bathroom door.

He raps on it lightly, speaking in a low voice. "Hey, you all right?" he asks, but pretends to be not genuine about the whole thing. He leans his back against the door after a moment and lights up a cigarette, his own control system, taking a long drag on it and exhaling a cloud of smoke, his eyelids falling shut.

Every time he talked to the pale emotionless child he got like this. Steadily throughout the conversation a build up of nausea would occur despite his efforts to push it back down his throat. It didn't help much to say the least and if anything he just felt even more sick for acknowledging the fact that the other, could do this to him. Not to say he actually threw up, he rarely did although he can clearly remember doing just that on the day the announcement of L's untimely death had occurred. He had ran as fast as his feet could carry him away, just wanting to block the entire world out, trying to think up some sort of plan, anything to get him out of there and in the end he had but he must even admit that it wasn't a very good one. Joining the mafia, despite it's benefits wasn't exactly the brightest decision that one could make about the direction of their life.

However, at the time it wasn't a decision but something that had to be done, that's what he had thought anyhow. The sound of Matt's voice outside the door makes him blink a little in disbelief because it was a bit of a rarity for the red head to show out right concern. He generally feared Mello taking aim at him or something along those lines. He pauses for a couple seconds, the previously felt anger slowly simmering down to a minimum so he's able to speak without his voice shaking.

"Yeah.. I'm.. fine." He mutters wearily, turning on the sink to splash his face with some water as he often did when trying to think something over. Another old habit that he had failed to abandon along with his many others. He looks in the mirror for a couple seconds, analyzing his features, but in particular the aging scar that covered half of his face and by now he wasn't surprised to see it, it had become a familiarity to him but now it makes a strange sort of chill crawl up his spine as he looks away and tries to forget about what had just happened for a moment.

Sighing once more he opens the door abruptly, surprised to find that Matt was standing against it, cigarette smoke drifting from the cancer stick as usual and he's even more surprised by the fact that his hand darts out to hold him steady so he doesn't fall back. Dumbfounded by his own gesture he drops his hold on the others shoulder immediately and turns away, not looking at him this time as he speaks. "It's nothing to worry about.. Just go play your stupid games or whatever…" It's not like it was all that unusual, despite his qualms with the other he was very much aware of the fact that he was his friend, his best friend even but even still he goes back over to the couch and sits down, burying his face in a newspaper becoming absorbed in old findings once again.

Matt raises an eyebrow smoothly and wonders how true Mello's statement is. It's always hard to tell if he's really okay or not, but Matt allows it to slide by, as always, and goes back to puffing on his cigarette. It is an understatement to say he was slightly stunned when the door opened, forcing him back, but even more so to say that the shock of Mello keeping him from falling backward is greater. And Mello makes a chide statement about Matt playing his games, and the man purses his lips. But, "Fine," is all that he can manage to say as a reply, his comment coming out as a sigh as he makes his way to slump down in a chair. The cigarette that had previously been hanging limply between his lips is discarded on the floor and crushed under his boot.

He takes out his PSP, something that often keeps him entertained while everything is slow and there's really nothing else to do, and begins playing, though he's played and completed this game four times already and can go through every stage of it without batting an eyelash. He does look up from it every now and then, however, to steal a glance at Mello, who's lost in the newspaper and such again and Matt doesn't bother saying a word. There has always been things he would like to say, though, to Mello -- random things that would make no sense to either of them, but things that he knew Mello would not acknowledge for the life of him.

This is how he saw it, anyway, fingers hitting each button on the game console with practiced precision. If only things in life were like his games, he thinks, but it's only wishful thinking and he's more than aware of that fact. "Anything?" he asks after a while passes, not bothering to look up from his game as he speaks.

The morning is dragging by and the worse part is, that he knows it is. He's trying to occupy his thoughts with the writing that lines the pages, but it's not even catching his interest all that much. His thoughts keep wandering off elsewhere to places that he doesn't even know but at least he manages to feign interest in his disinterest as he sits there, looking like the model for determination, only casting a sullen glance at the VCR's green glowing numbers every now and then, the ones that currently read off "7:25."

He had just looked over not even five minutes ago and he's tempted to go out, do something else related to the case but what exactly is the question. It's not like he even really wants to leave in the first place. Alas, as he's pondering this his train of thought is interrupted once more by Matt's voice and he can't help but stare at the back of his head for a few moments, as if he's trying to articulate a proper answer because really the truth was blatantly right in front of their faces.

"No, not really. The problem is, there's not all that much to go on in the first place. Near is sitting in front of about fifty televisions and computers playing with his toy trains with all his little helpers surrounding him, as I'm working my fucking ass off with one computer and a bunch of old newspapers that literally mean nothing. I already know the outcome of everything I read."

He's always known this though, and it's never really stopped him before but at the moment he just feels like the whole affair is pointless as he throws them to the side and stands up, beginning to pace about the living room in his usual zombie like "Near must be destroyed at all costs" manner. He doesn't speak though, he doesn't feel like it, no, he feels like he's going insane to tell the truth and like his mind is going off into a million different directions at once and it's unnerving and he already feels tired even though the day has barely started. This is all Near's fault, it really is.

"I might go out tonight, see what those jackasses are up to today down at the mafia warehouse. God knows they're incompetent as hell." As if on cue his hand grasps at the small golden crucifix swinging idly back and fourth across his chest and he pauses mid step and just stands there for a couple seconds as if he's unsure of what to do. "Matt, can you stop allowing your video games to destroy even more brains cells for one fucking minute? Jesus. Just even pretend that you care about any of this."

"I don't have to _pretend_," Matt replies coolly, his voice calm though the statement had unruffled him a bit. He does care, and he always has, but he's known for a while that maybe all of this was getting them nowhere. All of the investigating, waiting for leads -- would it all pay off in the end, or was it all just in vain? "I care plenty," he mutters under his breath, switching off his game and putting it back in his pocket. And there are unexplained things that Matt cares about, things he'd rather not know the reason for him caring about them in the first place. He lights up another cigarette and takes a few puffs on it, leaning back in the chair and letting his eyes fall shut once more. Sometimes he just doesn't understand, and sometimes -- he's glad that he doesn't.

Because, in the end, he really doesn't want to discover his reason behind caring about Mello so damn much.

"Like hell you don't." It was no use arguing though, he thinks they both knew the true nature of their desperation and how really it just seemed that the two of them were walking in circles over and over again, getting nowhere fast but even still he had to try, they had to try, that's to say if the other would get off his lazy ass and actually contribute something for once.

"It's not like I expect you to though, it's not like I'm disappointed by it." He's not, either; this to Mello is also old news and it's just a reminiscence of their carefree days at Wammy's when even back then Matt only cared about getting to the next level of his game while Mello continued trying to be the best but back then, at least things were comfortable and more relaxing, he used to be able to seek solace in Matt in the form of an escape goat from his problems but nowadays it just seemed like he was creating some, causing Mello to be on edge and more jumpy and anxious than usual for reasons beyond him.

For one thing, he worried about him, how much he fucking smoked, how he barely moved around but most of all he worried about Kira finding out his name and writing it down and that it was one thought that makes Mello beyond uncomfortable to say the least. The guilt alone, as much as he would hate to admit it would kill him because he couldn't loose him like that. He just couldn't, so he pushes it to the back of his mind and throws his hands in the air as he slumps down again, and picks up the previously abandoned newspaper drifting back into his usual focused mindset as a silence settles about them.

He's not sure how long this goes on for before he begins to speak again, barely realizing it, "Why do you even bother to fucking stay? If you don't care then you shouldn't, I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do like I used to. You don't need my permission to leave or something." He's not even sure as to why he says it really but it's too late to take it back because he has and it's done with and he looks up a little bit, staring at the red mop of hair once more and feeling suddenly bitter at the logic that Matt could get up and go if he wanted to. Sure, Mello could kill him right on the spot but he wouldn't and he thinks Matt knows this and this is another thing that he secretly worries about. A worry that he never wishes to acknowledge, he likes Matt's presence. Sure the noise is annoying, and sure he's a slob but he still likes this and he hates the fact that he does. He hates the fact more than anything that if he did leave he would be upset and angry and not sure what to do with himself and that in itself is ridiculous but like it or not, for Mello it's the truth.

Matt ponders on this for a long while. And really, he couldn't agree more; Mello was right, he could leave, and Mello could shoot him in the back of the head - but he knows that Mello wouldn't, and he thinks that Mello knows he knows so he says nothing of it, just flicks some ashes nonchalantly and bounces his knee, staring off into another direction. Sure, he could get up and waltz away and forget about all this, move far away and go live somewhere where he wouldn't need to worry about finding Kira or being killed and all of that nonsense. He could live off a coast somewhere, by himself -- hell, he could find a person to live with, if he wanted, commit to someone and try to lead a normal life. It was something he has never done, after all.

But it is clear as crystal that he will go nowhere. His body will not allow it, despite the struggles his mind puts up. And even his mind hardly agrees with deserting Mello; instead, his thoughts roam back to his loyalty to the other man, and he knows with every ounce of his being that he will stay by Mello's side until the very end, whether that meant death or success -- it doesn't matter much to Matt. And are there even differences in success in death? How do you really succeed, anyway? If Kira were to be captured, no one will have won, except for Near, maybe. He had taken L's place, and by bringing Kira to justice he would be carrying out L's task - something Mello would do, given he been put in Near's spot instead of his own.

So instead of leaving, instead of throwing in the towel and agreeing with Mello, Matt simply remains in his seat and takes another long drag on his cigarette, lips forming a tight line around it until he exhales the unhealthy smoke and lets his hand fall on the arm of the chair. "Yeah," he says simply, "I know. But I'm not going anywhere, so it looks like you're stuck with me." His voice drips with dry humor, and he even chuckles a bit after the words fall from his lips, disregarding how completely humorless the whole scene is.

He watches Matt for a long while, he watches the way he appears to seriously consider his proposal, think it over, he watches the way the cigarette begins to burn too close to his fingers despite him not realizing it and he watches the way his eyes seem to be searching for something that he can't seem to locate and all of this makes Mello frown a little for no reason in particular. Perhaps because he hadn't expected him to take it seriously, but it appeared he had and Mello couldn't blame him really because the whole thing was very logical and he was looking for some sort of explanation or indication as to why he bothered to stay, to put up with this bullshit day after day with little argument.

It confused him as much as it didn't, he was used to it sure, he expected it - yes, but he still didn't know the reasoning behind any of this, to him it was a cloud of smoke obscuring his vision and when he pondered over it for too long it just made him even more frustrated and weary of the whole affair of their relationship and really he just brushed it off as not being able to bother to care, but sometimes he really did. He sits up a little at the vague response and rolls his eyes, shaking his head slowly and propping his feet atop the small coffee table, sending a few papers flying downward.

"Whatever. It's not like it matters," he says blankly, not exactly sure as to how he should respond without sounding too hypocritical and the laugh does nothing for him but make him want to ram his gun barrel down his throat so he'll never be able to do it again because it's just as unsettling as everything is in this moment but he holds in all his exasperations and instead wanders over the computer - thinking that perhaps there was something on Kira on the net for a change, it could always help to go through the thousands of fan sites dedicated to the so called savior of the new world, some asshole with a god complex.

Besides, it was a great way to pass the time and pointedly ignore Matt and whatever had just happened to the best of his ability without making it seem intentional. Yes, very smooth... Withdrawing yet another chocolate bar, he bites down hard, hearing the expected little snap that echoes about for a few moments as he pauses his mechanical tapping on the keys because he just realized something that he hadn't previously. "Matt." Another pause for added effect. "You didn't really answer my question, you found a loophole and took the easy way out like always." He doesn't turn around, but he doesn't continue typing either and instead begins to drum his fingers on the desk in mild irritation as to why he's bothered to push the matter in the first place.

Matt should have known, really, should have known that Mello would press the situation even though he'd prefer not talk about it anymore. But he continues to act casual about the entire thing, shrugging lightly and wincing just a bit when the end of the cigarette touches his skin. It's happened so many times before that he hardly notices and just rubs his fingers a bit and wipes his hand to get the excess ash off his skin. He thinks hard, then, thinks about Mello's question again and replays it over and over in his head. Yeah, he always did seem to take the easy way out - of everything, and that was something he had to admit though he would truly love to deny such a pathetic trait.

And he fails to notice that the more he thinks about it, the more agitated he becomes, at himself, perhaps, maybe Mello, too, but it infuriates him that he's unable to answer such a stupid question without hesitation. Why can't he leave? It shouldn't be that hard to answer, but he racks his brain for a plausible response, fingers clenched into fists on his thighs. Matt has never been one to loose his temper or become emotional -- those things were left entirely up to Mello, and Matt would rather lock all of his feelings in a small box where it could be invisible to the world. He would bury it, then, so that even he didn't have to be in the presence of such feeble feelings, those senseless wastes of time that he usually didn't bother himself with.

So it's bemusing to him why he's even becoming so upset, so tense now. When he speaks, his voice wavers a bit, and he swallows a gulp in an attempt to rid his tone of any signs of uneasiness; however, his tries are in vain and his comment comes out sounding just as uncontrolled before. "...Why don't I leave? You-- you really want to know, Mello? Really?" All of those years spent practicing keeping himself from the world - what were they for, now? Could he really just let his mind slip away because of one stupid incident. He clenches his teeth, eyes shut tightly, and leans forward in his seat. "I-- don't know..." The words come out slowly, hesitantly, and his voice is soft, barely audible. But he continues speaking, tone gradually increasing in volume. "I don't know," he repeats, feeling control slipping out of his reach. "I just _don't_. I can't-- _can't_ leave, Mello!"

He runs a hand through his hair, grabbing the red strands in his fist. "And I have no idea _why_." His tone drops to a whisper, and with a loud sigh he tears the goggles from his eyes and throws them down on the floor in spite. He covers his face with his hands and sits there, hunched over in silence for the longest time before adding, "It would be helpful if you could tell me." He tries to brush the whole thing off as though it never happened, and really, it was then that he wished it never did.

This was not how Matt was supposed to respond because Mello was no way in hell prepared for this sort of thing. He wasn't good with consoling people, being a source of comfort and security, he generally looked at that as foolishness and a waste of his precious time. It wasn't the sort of thing that he was forced to deal with on a regular basis with anyone but himself and that was coincidentally how he liked it so when Matt starts speaking, saying things that makes Mello's own throat constrict a little he isn't all that sure as to how he's supposed to handle this situation that he had made arise completely on his own.

Now, like always he had the aftermath to deal with, the aftermath that he had been willing to come but now that it was here he realizes how stupid it was of him. He wasn't even sure what he had been going after in the first place, it's not like he needed an excuse for conversation but he had taken it as a chance to quench his curiosity about something that he had always wondered about, even through childhood. Even still, this was unexpected and he had thought the other would brush it off with a "Why not," or some other cocky remark or maybe he would totally ignore it, yeah that's what he had thought anyways, and now was hoping for but instead he stares down at the other, Matt's question looming over him like a bomb that's about to explode right in both of their faces.

Or maybe it already had considering it was a rarity when Matt went off like this, even when they were kids things like this rarely happened, so of course he has no idea as to how he's supposed to deal with this without making a fool of himself but all he can keep hearing is how Matt said that he couldn't leave and he doesn't need to further question, it all he has is the truth and things that he's told himself over the years to believe. "You used to say I was a thrill and a half lots of fun… exciting… A change of pace."

He manages out quietly, eyes burning holes into the carpeting. "I was different, you're friend, you wanted to be around me…" Mello was never one to object all that much either. He closes his eyes a little, slowly turning away from the computer in front of him, trying to articulate some answer because honestly.

"Why" was a question that he was constantly asking himself every single day. Why is Kira still out there? Why is L dead? Why is Near number one and I've always been fucking number two. Why is Matt here? Why do I want him here. Why why _why_. It was an endless chain of the same questioning and he's gotten tired of it to the point where he never wants to fucking deal with it again. "Maybe you're bored, maybe you have nowhere else to go. " He wants to sound as if he's full of all the answers when really one couldn't be further from the truth. He was always being trampled down by reasoning.

Standing up slowly, he towers over Matt's hunched over figure not exactly sure as to what he should do - or how this had even come about in the first place. He has a mind to kick him, but then he has one to embrace him but neither are all that appealing so he decides upon just simply standing there in silence, still trying to find the right words. But instead, drawing blank after blank because maybe there's nothing he can possibly say to counter this, he instead kneels down beside the other, removing his hands away from his face and stares at him for a couple seconds before closing the small gap between them and pressing his lips to Matt's for just a moment, hesitantly backing away and going back over to the computer to begin wordlessly tapping on the computer keys once more.

Matt was already murdering himself internally for blowing up like that when Mello came to stand in front of him. The other's words rang in his ears, looping in an endless cycle. Yes, yes, all of that was true - but it was more, too, wasn't it? It had always been more, but Matt could never discover _what_, and maybe that was the very source of all his bound frustration, his emotions that he chained away for no one but himself as though they were precious jewels meant for no eyes other than his own. But Mello's voice still lingers in his mind as the man kneels down beside him, and Matt doesn't even acknowledge his presence because he's not really even sure if Mello is there or not.

This is something he's long wondered, too; has Mello always been there, right from the beginning? Matt thinks he has, even as children, and now, Mello and Matt have always been there and they have always been _them_. But what were they? Matt thinks there is no logical answer to this question. Mello is taking Matt's hands away from his face, then, and Matt wants nothing more but to snatch himself away and spat something furious at the man. However, he is hardly even given the chance to react, because Mello is pressing his lips against his own and Matt swears he loses the ability to breathe.

The kiss is short and abrupt, but to Matt it lasts a matter of hours, and he sits there, stunned, eyes wide and staring after Mello as he goes back to typing away at his keyboard. Matt can't really feel his hands, then, or any other part of his body for that matter. It's like he's paralyzed, but he quickly notices that he's being terrible cliché about the whole matter, spazzing out over one stupid kiss. But that's it: The kiss was far from stupid, far, far from it, and Matt wishes it would have lasted longer for unknown reasons. His body and mind feel separated, and he wonders how much longer he'll continue to lie to himself about everything in his life that ever was or will be. Was that whole thing really as big a deal as Matt was making it, or was it all in his head? And he forgets how to react, even, so he merely remains there for a lapse of minutes trying to sort his mess of thoughts out -- but to no prevail, he realizes; everything is so blurry, so bunched together and Matt can hardly form a coherent thought as he rises to his feet and slowly makes his way to stand behind Mello.

He can't even form words in his mind, so how is he expected to say anything aloud? He quickly disposes of this notion and decides to not say anything, just collect enough of his mind to force his body to work in some fashion. And his limbs react far better than he had imagined, though extremely shaky and hesitant, and Matt places a hand on Mello's shoulder and leaves it there for a moment. His eyes are fixed on the ground and are a bit hollow, but in that instant he tosses out the rest of his conscious path of thinking and grips Mello's shoulder a bit tighter, eyes glinting.

And, in a single, fluent motion, he whips Mello around to face him and pushes himself against the other man, slamming their lips together in a desperate manner that is in no way Matt; he wants to believe that it is some other person acting and that his true self would never behave in such a way. Because really, Matt would have more control over himself, Matt would never let things get out of hand--

But Matt is dragging Mello down to the floor by his collar, eyes closed as tight as he can manage.

These sites are all the same. Same rants, same dialogue between the members and the same declarations of how Kira was doing such good for the world - how it was all such a wonderful thing and usually this would annoy Mello to the point where he would turn around, stand up and start bitching to Matt about the idiocy that is painfully clear in all of these people but he doesn't because he's trying to actually focus on this, he's trying to pay close attention and take note of anything that's in the least bit suspicious. Anything that can be a possible lead.

He's not supposed to be even remembering what had just happened, let alone thinking about it over and over again. That was ridiculous and stupid. He's kissed men before, actually he only likes to kiss men in general, not that he's ever made Matt aware of this but really something about this is making him anxious as hell and he can barely sit still but he's feigning utter nonchalance as he clicks on a direct link to a news video that had been posted on some homepage. L he had to think about avenging L and beating Near and becoming number one.

Besides, this whole thing is basically his fault in the first place, he knew what he was doing, he really did as much as he would like to deny that he didn't. It was however all too clear for him as he sat there watching the images across the screen, doing his best to completely forget about Matt existing let alone co inhabiting with him in his own apartment.

As the minutes pass he's beginning to actually get his mind into proper gear, to shift over to things that mattered as he leans in closer to the screen, reading the text that's appearing when all of a sudden he feels a hand on his shoulder and instantly his whole body stiffens all at once and he's left sitting at the screen willing the other to leave him the fuck alone. He's about to say just that too but his chair is being spun around and he's not really sure as to what's going on, maybe he'll try to take a shot at him because he doesn't have his gun or maybe -

His mind blanks out at the lips that are on his once more and he's stunned as his limbs become frozen in place and he's not exactly sure what's going through his mind because it seems like everything is as his tongue comes out to tangle with Matt's and he feels himself being pulled down to the floor as if he's in some dream that he has absolutely no control over but at the same time, he doesn't mind it and maybe that's the best part of it. All he can focus on is the way the other tastes, and the moan that he tries to suppress as a shudder goes through him.

He had admittedly, purposely, surprised Matt with a kiss, and he was surprising him with this and maybe it was a sort of game as to who could outwit the other with their bold actions. He has to admit he's been completely off guard, and his plan had been to go on and act like nothing had happened because it happened but now… His hands are threading themselves through the red strands and he pulls a little, trying to catch his breath and regain his proper sense of judgment. Both however seem to be in short supply as he looks up at the other, licking his own lips a little and setting to work on devouring his collarbone and the now exposed neck area, as his other free hand slides beneath his shirt a bit brushing over the skin.

He only pauses for a moment to catch his breath once more and speak, trying to keep the husky tone from overpowering his voice. "Why…Matt, this is…" He's not even sure as to what exactly he's going on about. "Have...you…this before..?" How had this even fucking happened? It was only a kiss, and he could stop this right here and now, but yet he finds himself unable, and this, he doesn't like this revelation either, it's disturbing because Mello liked having control over situations and loosing control in one was his fear and yet... perhaps he was gaining a strange sort of control too?

It's a belated reaction when Matt notices how far gone he is, how quickly his mind is slipping away from him, but his body pushes him onward, tells him to keep going. And, all too confusing to him, his mind is telling him the same thing, save for the thoughts that remind him that Mello probably won't be too thrilled after this is over.

However, he doesn't expect the manner in which Mello responds to his actions, and for a moment he feels victorious, feels as though he's finally gained some grounds over Mello -- but he knows the type of person is, and he knows that nothing is ever that easy when it comes to dealing with him, and already Matt can hardly string together a line of words that make any kind of sense if his life depended on it. The way Mello kisses him back is a shock to say the least, and the hand under his shirt brings him to make a quiet hissing noise under his breath, breathing harshly against the other's lips.

The way Mello tries to stifle a moan is so delicious to him, and he quickly scolds himself inwardly for thinking so, for thinking that the hands in his hair feels too damn good to be real as he runs his tongue along Mello's bottom lip. It's all so frenzied, so horribly, beautifully out of control, and it's hard enough for Matt to even keep up let alone allow Mello's words to register as the kiss comes to a painful halt. Of course, he has an answer, he knows he has one this time, but he's panting heavily and gripping Mello's shoulders so tightly that his knuckles are beginning to turn a pale color. "Of course," is his reply, but it doesn't come off as haughtily as he would have liked; the hint of arrogance he tried to add in instead came out as being breathless and anxious - and he is, honestly, which is unexpected because Matt has never really felt like _this _before.

Not to say that he hasn't been in this type of situation. Far from it, actually; Matt's been with other people before, some of which he had not even remembered until now, and it makes him wonder why he's being so-- so different with Mello than with those other people. They all seemed so bleak in comparison to the man, so feeble and insignificant that Matt regrets only then ever wasting his time on them. He wants to add a snide comment like "What kind of guy do you take me for?" but he soon gives up on that because he's breathing far too hard for his own liking, chest rising and falling harshly against the other's.

It all seems so spur of the moment to him, and that's what he wants to believe, as he presses his lips against Mello's again in a fervent manner, hands pulling Mello off of the floor a bit and holding him there like Matt is afraid he'll escape, like Mello is his prisoner and he'll do anything humanely possible to keep him in his hold. His eyes are still closed because he doesn't want to see, doesn't want to be affirmed at the moment that this is all real; or maybe he's intimidated by the thought that it is a dream, that maybe there's a chance when he opens his eyes Mello won't be there and everything will have been in his mind. He pushes Mello back to the floor in a rough manner, hands sliding down the man's body to rest on his hips. It's barely noticed by him how aggressive he's behaving, and he knows somewhere in the back of his mind that it's far more unsettling to Mello than it could ever be to him.

Mello knew it was his fault, really he did, and he had even begun to accept it -- but it was also Matt's fault just as much as his. Him, throwing a fit and acting as if he didn't know anything, saying he didn't, and all Mello could do was show him that yes, yes he knew but just didn't want to, and he was helping him remember all the times that they had laid together in his bed as kids, the lazy afternoons spent together...and the times he personally had woken up from dreams concerning the other that he didn't exactly wish to share.

Mello was aware of his sexuality, very aware for that matter, and he didn't really care because yes, he did find Matt attractive. But that wasn't it - if it were, then he would have fucked him a long time ago and not bothered to even worry about ruining the friendship or whatever; he would have just done it and moved on, but this had always been different. He was holding onto something that he was afraid to lose and too set in his ways to change, so this in itself was a newfound pleasantry. Especially since these kisses are so far from the short little first one -- these are hungry and desperate, and he's kissing back exactly in that same manner, all those years of pent up teenage frustration and longings all coming out at once - and it's a bit more than intoxicating.

He's not even sure as to when his own eyes had somehow decided to close in the midst of all this. He smirks, though, and stares at Matt for a couple seconds, trying to control his breathing as he begins to nod, because he had figured as much and the sudden change in movements startles him a bit. The death grip that Matt has on him makes him raise an eyebrow before connecting their lips once more, and he decides that he likes the way Matt tastes, his saliva intermingled with traces of nicotine, despite the fact that he was always complaining about the way Matt was such a damn cigarette fiend.

But he actually likes it now, and he wants more and as he finds himself thrown to the floor once more, he presses his palms to the curve of Matt's shoulders and decides that now it's about time that the tables are turned. Pinning the other down, he spreads his legs with his knee and continues focusing on the hand that is going up further and further beneath the fabric of Matt's shirt. Eventually he finds a nipple to tweak a bit, and he mouths it through the material for awhile before moving to his mouth again as he places his hips flush against his and begins to slowly, almost agonizingly so, grind against him. And Christ, he feels so fucking hot, like the temperature has went up at least twenty degrees -- or maybe the air conditioner had busted all together.

It doesn't help either the fact that these sensations keep coursing through his body, further proving the fact that there was obviously no oxygen left in this room, and him being such a kind soul, he immediately begins to slide Matt's shirt up from his body, his lips going to plant a trail of fluttery kisses down his chest. He pauses only at his waist line, almost as if trying to calculate the percentage of why he should stop, and he does and he looks at him for a couple seconds and brings a finger to his lips - almost in a parody of L when he was in deep thought as he pauses and begins to stand up. "I have work to do," he states offhandedly, and really he's just being a sadistic bastard for reasons beyond him, but he has to admit, torturing Matt has always given him a thrill. It's almost like his little way of getting the upper hand back over everything.

Matt's mind can't even begin to wrap around the question of when he started to lose control of the situation. Everything is happening so quickly, and he's fumbling to keep with the pace, to tell himself that he can't just let everything slip away so easily. But in the midst of the tantalizing kisses and the ministrations Mello is putting him through, Matt tries to decide when this all began. Had it been so long that he wanted to do this very thing with the other man, or to even _kiss _him, let him know that he stayed by his side for more than a few petty reasons?

He figures that it's been far too long and that's it, and he doesn't continue to ponder on the matter anymore because Mello is pinning him down, switching the roles that had only been definite for the slightest moment. The roles disappeared, and Matt thinks he has at least a fair chance at winning this battle of dominance; that is, until Mello begins making his way downward, and Matt immediately tenses, squirming under the other and giving a small groan in reply without giving a single thought to it. He bites down on his bottom lip -- hard, breaths labored, and slowly opens his eyes until they are half lidded, peering down at Mello.

He realizes then that he wants this so - so bad, too bad, and his hands wander to his side and rub against the carpet in a nervous manner, his hips wriggling a bit in blind anticipation. At the moment, being controlled by Mello doesn't sound _that _bad; he could always try and regain his former position when he wanted, right? But he isn't even given the chance because Mello stands up and makes a dry remark that causes him to scowl, breaths still harsh and uneven, fingers clenched into fists at his side. It takes him a moment to sort out his thoughts and understand what's happening, but it doesn't take much longer afterward for him to know that Mello is toying with him, tormenting him, even, and he clenches his teeth, eyes narrowing a bit.

The feelings in his body are running high, so the portion of his brain that keeps his emotions in check are quickly dwindling away until they're almost nonexistent, and Matt staggers to his feet, finding the task harder than he'd imagined. He acts solely on instinct from then on, hands reaching out to catch Mello by his shoulders and yank the man against his chest. Inhaling sharply at the impact, Matt takes a split second to compose himself and progresses to engage Mello in a furious kiss, his tongue sliding against Mello's lips in an attempt to coax them apart. One of his hand wraps around Mello's neck and holds him there, fingers clenching at his hair as though it's a life support, while his other hand slides down to grip Mello's waist. And, in a frantic, off-the-wall way, Matt grinds his hips against Mello and gasps into the kiss, finding the smallest amount of relief in doing so.

It's almost like a sort of challenge that he's seeing if Matt will or will not rise up to, because honestly he does have work to do, he really does, and actually he should be serious about the whole thing and want to commit himself back to it, but he really doesn't. He could really care less at this moment, and as he stares down at Matt's flushed face he tries to control the grin that contorts his features steadily into a smirk as he makes a move to sit down and begin watching the video again because there could be some sort of evidence against Kira, perhaps.

He shouldn't be thinking about how he's proving to the red head that he does in fact want Matt, and he's considering this when he feels the same hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he's yanked back, falling onto Matt. He's about to protest but is cut off, and all he can really do is retaliate through the kiss, his teeth scraping against Matt's as he opens his mouth, barely allowing entrance. When he feels his hips connect with the others and he's moving against him unexpectedly, and he hears Matt making some sort of noise, he can't help but echo off it as he moans softly, opening his eyes to slits as he suddenly slams the other against the nearest wall, never breaking the kiss as he moves Matt's hands to his waist to help him get rid of his shirt as quickly as possible.

He was way too hot way too fast, and actually it was a bit embarrassing the way he could barely breath -- or see straight for that matter as his fingers fumbled with Matt's zipper, pulling his pants down in one swift motion, exposing his thighs. He can feel his fingers shaking slightly from the excitement of it all as his neutral gaze rests on Matt, and he looks him over for a couple seconds, as if taking in the view as he slides his boxers down as well only leaning in to nibble on the place where neck meets ear, whispering into it, "I told you I have things to do. Must I be disturbed because you want me that badly?"

He's joking, of course, still teasing and all sensuality as he runs his tongue over the lobe, his fingers wrapping around the other's hardened member, stroking slowly and then a bit faster. He goes to kiss him once more, his other hand situated against his waist to hold him in place as he drops to his knees, and his tongue comes out to enclose around him briefly, as if trying to figure out whether he'll like how Matt tastes or not as he pulls the other down roughly, so he's laying on the ground beside him.

Mello encloses his mouth around him, taking more into his mouth slowly, nails still digging into his hips so he doesn't gag him as his head begins to bob up and down. This goes on for a bit until he can taste traces of pre cum, and he backs away, feeling very uncomfortable, almost unbearably so because of the confinement of his leather pants, eyes narrowing and veiled over with lust. "So, what is that you want exactly?" he questions, feigning innocence but really he just wants to hear him say it, or show him even. "Hm?"

The truth is, though, that he wants this so badly himself that it's almost making him sick, the mere thought of it, and the fact that the red head has always been able to affect him in the most annoying, profound ways. It had always been easy to hide these factors with sarcasm and nonchalance, but right now he's finding it nearly impossible.

He observes Matt for a couple moments, and the desperation in his eyes, the way he says please with that neediness that's quite attractive, and to him it's a bit amusing but more than anything - it's enticing. He sits still for a couple seconds as if he's not sure how he should react, but he does after some time and flicks a stray strand of blonde hair from his lashes. He begins to make quick work with undoing all the damn laces of his pants, and it's moments like these where he honestly wishes that he didn't wear them -- but he can't be bothered with this knowledge as he pins the other down beneath him once more and kisses the nape of his neck, and then his collar bone, and he continues this until he finally manages to undo the damn things and haphazardly kick them off, instead now inserting two fingers into his mouth and coating each with a sufficient amount of saliva.

His hand lowers further and further, and he nudges the other urging him to part his legs more as he covers his mouth with his own in hopes of distracting him, nibbling on his lip when he suddenly inserts one. He can feel Matt tense beneath him, and he doesn't do anything for a couple seconds, trying to allow him to adjust before he moves the digit around a bit and inserts another. His own stomach is already fluttery with excitement, and he's trying to hurry up and prep him as quickly as possible because minutes seemed to be hours as he continues his scissoring motion. He can hear both of their breaths intermingled and ragged, and it sounds like one of them is about to pass out any second now -- and he really hopes it's not himself.

He curves his wrist and delves the fingers in as deep as possible, then withdrawing to reenact the same motion, hearing Matt emit a sort of moan, but it may be from the fact that he's drawn a little blood from his lips but he'll take his chances as he takes them out altogether, memorizing the spot and thinking that he's ready as he looks down at him, crucifix swinging back and forth with the motion - silently telling Matt to brace himself.

Mello inserts himself inside of Matt a bit rough and abruptly, although not daring to move as he waits once more for time to pass because fuck, he's so tight, and he didn't know it would be this hot inside of him. He can't help but not control the far too loud moan that escapes his lips upon the entrance, because it feels so good, too good -- and he wants more of it as he goes further in, biting his own lip now. "Fucking... Hell. _Jesus_," he mutters breathlessly, eyes hazed and trying to make out the other's form beneath him.

He gives an experimental thrust before continuing to raise his hips and lower them back down, this time burying himself to the hilt, and thus a sort of haphazard motion begins, a fast pace being set that's leaving him breathless as his fingers claw at Matt's shoulder blades, and he bends down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips whispering against him, "You like that?" And really, it shouldn't be this amazing, Matt shouldn't be able to give him something that he'll come to crave and desire. That's against the rules of their little relationship, but Christ, if that wasn't happening then he didn't know what was. Mello always had been an impulsive person, after all.

He's had sex with many men before; well, not _too_ many, but a fair share to say the least. However, none made his heart race as fast as this -- he's actually afraid that it just might bust out of the confinements of his ribcage as he moves inside the other, his fingers barely able to hold on to the body beneath his, and he still feels so very hot and as if he needs to create even more friction, gain more contact between their bodies - because this isn't enough, which is a bit ridiculous, and it's funny to think that after all those years it's finally happening.

Although, he's coincidentally not all that surprised, either; he always figured the other would come to his senses someday, even after he left him at Wammy's. He knew that somehow it would work out for the best one way or another, and as his fingers move down to start pumping him in time to his thrusts he's glad it has. He's glad that Matt is here with him and plays his stupid videogames, and hacks security systems for him, he really is -- as that overwhelming sensation of heat begins to build within his stomach, threatening to uncoil slowly and it does, but rather abruptly. He cries out a little, muttering the other's name and other things that he can't quite make out through his doubled over breathing as he lays atop him, trying to regain control over his senses and to force his lungs to return to normal.

He stares at the wall for awhile, not really thinking of anything in particular, just riding out the lingering waves of his orgasm, listening to the sounds of their breathing, taking in the feeling of their bodies against one another and trying to will himself to not become tired or anything, because he still had things that needed to be done whether he liked it or not.

There wasn't time for cuddling and cozy familiarity of laying there together; Mello wasn't one much into that in the first place, and besides, he didn't want Matt to get the wrong idea for that matter. Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth down the matted locks, he sets to work on putting his pants back on, and his vest, staring down at the other for a couple seconds, leaning down to kiss him lightly before straightening up and sitting back down in front of the previously abandoned news feed.

"Come on, get up. Take a shower and start looking through that pile of newspapers over there. I might need your help with this later on." The usual routine couldn't be disrupted just because of sex, and like hell Mello would ever let something like that happen. He knows Near sure as hell wouldn't -- or L, for that matter. "Stop staring at me and get back to work, you lazy ass. You can skip the shower if you want, whatever, and no - I won't take it with you." Mello's mindset had completely contorted into his usual business like "don't fuck with me" one in a matter of seconds, and sometimes it even amazed him how fast he could do that sort of thing. He doesn't think Near would be able to even if he tried very hard, and that in itself is an accomplishment comparable to no other.

Matt stares after Mello for a long while. When he had come, it was more powerful than anything he's felt before, breaths coming as wild gasps and hands locking themselves in Mello's hair. He thinks that he remembers yelling Mello's name a bit too loudly, thinks maybe it was more than the fact that Mello is amazing at fucking peoples' brains out; maybe, but he's not sure, and he lies on the ground for another moment as he tries to slow his breathing.

He definitely needs a shower; no way he'll skip that, though the way Mello acts as though nothing had happened is a bit stunning to him, even if it was a very Mello thing to do. Matt is not so quick on letting things go so easily, and it takes him a bit more time to feel "normal" again after something like that, especially to that capacity. He groans softly and brings himself to a sitting position, not in any hurry whatsoever, despite Mello's complaints. He drowns them out instead and pretends he doesn't hear, scratching the back of his head and thinking to himself that he may not be able to walk so well for the next day or so.

Not that he really had anywhere to go; he could just laze around the place like he usually did, but this time with a reason for it -- at least, it was reason enough for him, he decides, and stands up, grabbing his clothes on the way, and heads to the bathroom. He glances back at Mello before closing the door, and now when he looks at him he feels strange -- different, somehow, and he can't really explain it. With a sigh he steps into the shower, turning the water on and making certain it's cold. The cool water feels good when it hits his skin, and he runs his hands through his hair, eyes closed.

He wonders how long it will take for things to set the same routine as usual, or if things will even be different at all. So far, it seems as though Mello hadn't even participated, like it was all some weird fantasy of Matt's -- but then, that doesn't seem so crazy, actually, and Matt smirks to himself and leans against the shower wall. Mello _had _given him a kiss afterward, and it was a small, subtle kiss, but it more than sufficed. It was there, anyway, and Matt had no room to complain.

Besides, he never imagined himself having a relationship with Mello that involved snuggling a sweet talking; more of a vague sort of relationship that only the two of them would understand. And, in that moment, Matt decided that it was more than enough to tide him over. Giving a soft sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower, putting his clothes back on and untangling his messy array of hair with his fingers and an old comb. He walks out of the bathroom and winces just a bit -- yep, already getting to him, and he curses under his breath, sauntering over to a chair and falling down into it with a deep exhale. His eyes stray to Mello, and he knows that this may very well be the way things go for a while. But, so long as Mello remained remotely close to him, he doesn't mind one bit.

"What is it you want done, Boss?" he asks teasingly, laughing softly. He takes a cigarette from the pack and lights it up -- and really, now the nicotine seems nowhere near as good as Mello.

* * *

**notes: **No, it's not finished yet. But I decided to go ahead and post this, since the next part seems a bit detached from this. (And besides, I think it's already way too lengthy.)

I know, I know, it was very hard to keep up with. Role-plays usually are. Feedback would be appreciated, though; I think I may have lost my writing edge.


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